Page 23

TWENTY-TWO

BOB MILLER

I slam the car door behind me and look up at my house surrounded by woods. Seeing the large wraparound porch and big bay windows used to bring me joy. Now, it’s just a reminder of what I’ve lost, or rather, what Sarah’s taken from me. I know she’s behind everything. She has to be. It can’t be a coincidence that Stacy worked for the Morgan Foundation. My guess is Sarah hired her to seduce me. But what I can’t understand is why she would do that.

Brad did a little more digging and discovered that Stacy had been hired as an event staffing model for a fundraising gala put on by the Morgan Foundation six months ago. Meaning, she was a hot waitress, eye candy to get the male donors to open their pocketbooks. I wonder if that was when Sarah got the idea in her head. Maybe she caught me looking at her and decided to test me, see if I’d stay faithful. Or maybe there was something more she wanted?

Sarah was the one who suggested using that same catering and event staffing company for the celebration my firm threw to honor my being named partner. On the night of my party, Sarah said she couldn’t go because Summer was sick, and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with a sitter. I was so disappointed. No, I was pissed. At the time, I thought she didn’t want to see me in her old position, perhaps due to jealousy. But now I know why Sarah couldn’t be there. Because if she had been, how could Stacy test me?

A shooting pain in my jaw drives the thoughts away, and I realize it’s from clenching too tightly—so I relax, hold my head high, and stride toward the house. At the door, I don’t knock because it’s my home too.

“Summer,” I call as I stroll in.

There’s a glow under the bathroom door in the hallway, and I can hear the hum of the fan and the sound of running water. Just as I step foot in the kitchen, the glass sliding door opens, and Sarah enters, carrying an empty plate in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Morning, Bob,” she says, closing it behind her and walking to the sink. She’s trying to be nonchalant, pretend like nothing is wrong and that I’m the only one acting out. She did the same thing to Adam, made him crazy, while she slowly destroyed him in the background. The only difference is that I’m onto her.

A blur of movement on the back deck catches my eye, and I immediately recognize him. Case Fifty, Alejandro Perez. He carries a board over his shoulder and pauses when he catches me looking at him. Alejandro meets my gaze and nods.

I shake my head and turn my attention to Sarah. “I see you hired a criminal.”

“He’s reformed, Bob.” She rinses a plate and sets it in the drying rack. “And he was your nomination. Do you not feel confident in your selection?” Sarah glances over her shoulder at me, raising a brow.

“That’s not what I said.” I take a step farther into the kitchen, lowering my voice. “But I’m not comfortable having him around Summer.”

“I’d never let anything happen to her.” She pauses her dishwashing and shoots me a look. “And besides, the foundation has a hundred percent success rate of non-recidivism.”

“It only takes one to drop that percentage.” I press my lips firmly together.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Oh yeah. What about you and me? Where’s my second chance, Sarah?”

“You’ll have your second chance with your next wife, Bob.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it; instead she pulls the plug from the drain and dries her hands with a towel.

I let out a single sarcastic ha and take another step toward her. “When did you know?”

“When did I know what?” She squints.

“When did you know you were going to divorce me?”

“The second I found out you fucked another woman.”

“You knew before that,” I challenge, lifting my chin.

Sarah simply scoffs and goes back to tidying. She’s treating me like this kitchen, like I’m just another mess she has to clean up.

“I know you hired her,” I say.

“Hired who?”

“Stacy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She wipes down the countertop, busying herself to make it clear this conversation isn’t worth her full attention.

“Why the fuck is Stacy on your company’s payroll?”

Sarah tilts her head in confusion but doesn’t say a word.

“Yeah, that’s right. I took your advice, and I looked into her. Stacy was hired as an event model or cocktail waitress or whatever it was for a gala your foundation put on six months ago.” I cross my arms over my chest, thinking, Checkmate, bitch. I’m onto you.

Maybe I should have held my cards close, but I have other cards that are snug up against me. I need Sarah to know that I’m fully aware of what she’s doing, so maybe she’ll realize none of it’s going to work, and she’ll stop.

“Are you telling me how you meet other women, Bob?”

Always with the clever remarks.

“No!” I say, clenching my jaw. “I’m telling you that you and Stacy are connected. I’d call it a coincidence, but it’s never a coincidence with you.”

She pauses her cleaning to meet my gaze, staring intently at me. “Do you really think I hire the fucking cocktail waitresses? I’m the founder and CEO of the company. Anne and her assistant take care of things like that.”

“Like Anne makes any decisions without your blessing...”

“Yes, she does. That’s why companies have employees.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Sarah,” I say, shaking my head. “I know you hired Stacy to sleep with me.”

She tosses the dishrag into the sink. “My God. You have lost your mind.”

“No, you’re the one who’s lost their fucking mind. Why’d you do it? Why’d you set me up? Did I piss you off? Did you decide you don’t need me anymore? Did you stop loving me?” My voice gets louder with each question, and I can feel a vein start to throb in my neck as the anger inside of me flourishes. “Is there someone else? Or maybe it’s because you couldn’t stand me taking your partner position? Is that it? Did I make you feel small ?”

Sarah doesn’t respond. She just stands there, calm as can be, with a look of pity on her face. That’s the last thing I need from her.

“Which is it?” I shout. “Why’d you decide to destroy our family?”

My heart is beating so hard and fast, it feels like it could shoot right out of my chest. Sweat gathers at my hairline, and my fingers ache from how tightly my hands are clenched. I’d love to wrap them around her pretty little neck and squeeze until her head pops off. My breaths turn shallow and quick like a bull’s snorts before it charges a matador. I slam my fist against the granite countertop in an attempt to release all the fury I’ve been holding in since she served me with those stupid divorce papers. Something in my hand cracks. But I can’t feel it. Because all I feel is rage.

“Tell me why you did it!” I yell.

“I can’t,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t do anything. Your actions have consequences, Bob, and I’m sorry you’re incapable of accepting that.”

“Dad,” Summer calls out. I turn to find her standing in the archway of the hall. A backpack is slung over her shoulder, and she’s looking at me like she’s scared of me. “Why are you yelling at Mom?” Her voice trembles.

I let out a heavy sigh, allowing the tension in my body to melt away. My shoulders drop and my chest deflates. “We just had a little argument, honey. Sometimes grown-ups do that. But everything’s okay now, so there’s nothing to worry about.” I seal my words with a smile. “How about you run outside, and I’ll meet you in a minute.”

“Okay,” she replies apprehensively, like she’s studying me. She’s clever just like her mother. Too clever sometimes. Summer rushes past me to Sarah, giving her a hug. “Bye, Mom. I love you.”

Sarah hugs back and kisses her on the forehead. She almost looks like a real human in this embrace.

“Love you too, sweetie. Be good for your dad.” Her tone is cheerful as she sends her off.

“I will,” Summer says, and she heads for the front door. I wait for her to leave the house before I continue because I don’t need to make myself look like the bad guy any more than I’m sure Sarah already has.

“This isn’t over.” I grit my teeth.

Sarah stares at me for a moment, studying me, trying to gauge how serious I am and how much of a fight I’ll put up.

“It is, Bob,” she says, but I notice there’s very little conviction in her voice—because deep down, she knows we’re just getting started.